


The Waste

by redcoatfollower



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 10:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4916101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcoatfollower/pseuds/redcoatfollower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one shot of Max's head space from the beginning of MMFR.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Waste

The sand never ended, stretching forever into nothingness. And more sand, of course. The clouds drifted thickly across an azure canvas that was splotched with the desperation of the world. Sometimes he could still see the bombs, could still taste the radiation in the air. Most of the time though, he just stood on the edges of cliffs and tried to forget. But no one could ever really forget those times, could they? One day life had been normal, then the next day, the fragile grasp society had on its sanity slowly began to crumble. Then there were marauders and high speed car chases across cracked asphalt. Then there were the Wars, too many too count, too many dead, too many bad memories.

And then there was the Waste. The Waste was the worst of it all.

He couldn’t really describe the loneliness out here. The agony of it waxed and waned, painful but relieving, loose but stifling. There were times he would go months without seeing another soul, and there were other times where the interactions clawed at him. Sometimes, he would speed through the desert until there was nothing in his rear view mirror but the same sand that pushed before him. Other times, he would seek out a single person just to know that he wasn’t the last man on earth.

He was never _really_ alone though. The voices of all those people, all those people that he had failed screamed into his mind, appeared in silhouettes against ruddy brown earth; mocking him, screaming at him, getting close enough to touch. Those were the worst days. Those were the days he’d act reckless and try and find someone to kill him.

He missed asphalt, the way it broke up the orange of the desert, the way it felt under the tires of his car. He had loved being a Driver, the way his engine sang, strong pistons driven by sprays of fuel, combustion turning into power. He had liked running people off the road, taking their broken and battered bodies from the wreckage and sending them away to wherever they went those days. He had felt alive then. He had had everything - a wife, a son, a job that he loved. Even with the world falling apart, he knew he would make it.

Out here though, he had nothing. He still drove, still ran people off the road, and still fed his car fuel through the careful touch of the accelerator. But now, the bodies wouldn’t be taken anywhere. If they were still alive when he got to the smoking wreckage, he’d make sure they never left the car. If they were dead, he’d loot them and take their gas, and live to survive one more day. There was no wife, no son, no job. There was only the Waste. For all eternity.

Instinct drove him to pack up his measly possessions, his heart in his throat, the taste of irradiated lizard still on his tongue, still stuck in his teeth. His leg, his damn leg, annoyingly stiff, swept into the car slower than he would have liked. The V8 roared to life, as she always did, all rumbles and sweet engine sounds, the high pitched whine of the blower digging at his brain. The exhaust pipes belched dark smoke and the tires, covered in makeshift chains slid in the sand. The car fishtailed for a moment before the chains gained purchase and he disappeared into the valley.

There was a part of him, when he saw them in his mirrors, that hoped they would catch him. There was another part of him that hoped they wouldn’t. In the end though, it didn’t matter. If he died today, or tomorrow, or 25 years from now, this is where his story would end.

In some ways though, it was also a beginning.


End file.
